


born the queen of nowhere

by solisaureus



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Character Study, F/M, endgame spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 08:31:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11271774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solisaureus/pseuds/solisaureus
Summary: Slowly but surely Zelda had come to hate the color blue. It had been her favorite all her life, the color of her mother’s eyes, of the ink she used for journaling, of the open sky over Great Hyrule Field on days she would take her house out for leisure without permission. It was half the reason she scanned every tuft of wildflowers along the road for the rare Silent Princess - that extravagant blue that seemed to glow like a moonlit beacon at night. But nowadays when the color floated by at the edge of her vision her heart sank like a stone instead of alighting with interest.





	born the queen of nowhere

**Author's Note:**

> A big ol' Zelda character study.

Zelda stayed up on the cold mountain far longer than she should have. It was Link’s shivering that finally urged her to let it go; although he tried to suppress it for as long as he could he was, alas, only human. She couldn’t keep him up there with her while she pleaded to deaf ears any longer. It was probably only a matter of minutes before she succumbed to hypothermia herself anyway, with her legs submerged in the spring that was barely too warm for ice. She had to ask Link to help her get out of the water since her sandaled blue feet had long since lost their feeling, and he ended up carrying her halfway down the frozen mountain until she could move her toes again. Not long ago Zelda would have been outraged at such a patronizing gesture but she knew now that he would have done it even if it wasn’t his duty.

The daze that she walked through the rest of the way to East Lanayru Gate was an odd sense of precarious safety, like she had just come back from sneaking out of the castle and her father hadn’t found out about it yet. Perhaps it would be fine, perhaps he would never know that she’d disobeyed him and they could continue coexisting in a fog of unsteady deception. Like the gravity of her failure was so vast that she couldn’t fully grasp the consequences and so concluded that maybe there wouldn’t be any at all. 

_You are an heir to a throne of nothing,_ her father had said. At the time she told herself that he was lying, that he was conjuring slander in a twisted attempt to motivate her. But now…

The blood-red sunset glint of the Master Sword’s scabbard on Link’s back ahead of her burned her eyes for a moment, and it aroused old resentment that she didn’t even realize was still there. Suddenly she wanted to rip the weapon from its bindings, knock the wind out of its wielder with the force of her frustration and then throw it away where it would never be seen again. But the feeling flew away before it had even took perch and in its stead she felt hollow shame. Just because Link had managed to fulfill this part of their joint destiny didn’t mean that he felt worthy of it any more than she did. 

The Champions stood lined up at the gate, silhouetted by the setting sun, Urbosa’s gold adornments shimmering like distant lanterns. Zelda told herself to walk with her head high, but the look on Daruk’s face as she approached told her that she’d already let them all down without even speaking a word.

She barely heard what they said to her. She shook her head, apologized weakly, afraid to say more than two words or look anyone in the face because it would somehow make it too real. Link stood beside her, wordless as always, and Zelda didn’t have to wonder what he was thinking.

“If I may…” 

Mipha’s timid inquiry caught Zelda’s ear like the melody of a rare songbird and she looked up at her despite herself. She looked serene, untroubled by Zelda’s failure in a way that none of the others did - Urbosa and Daruk spoke confidently but she could sense their fear, and Link’s practiced blank veneer hid the anxiety that Zelda knew was underneath, but Mipha’s gentle smile belonged to another, different day. One where she wouldn’t need to be a Champion. 

“I thought you -- well, I’m not sure how to put this into words. I’m actually quite embarrassed to say it,” Mipha continued. “But I was thinking about what I do when I’m healing. You know, what usually goes through my mind. It helps when I think -- when I think about --”

Her thought was swallowed by the monstrous end.

\--

Slowly but surely Zelda had come to hate the color blue. It had been her favorite all her life, the color of her mother’s eyes, of the ink she used for journaling, of the open sky over Great Hyrule Field on days she would take her house out for leisure without permission. It was half the reason she scanned every tuft of wildflowers along the road for the rare Silent Princess - that extravagant blue that seemed to glow like a moonlit beacon at night. But nowadays when the color floated by at the edge of her vision her heart sank like a stone instead of alighting with interest. 

Link was never too far off. Even when he tried to be subtle or when she ordered him to give her space, the bright shade of his tunic was too vibrant to blend in with any background. It caught her eye with even the slightest motion of his breathing, and the sight of it had become the visual equivalent of a shrill alarm bell that pitched incessantly throughout the day. Zelda found it difficult to focus with him lurking constantly on the border of her periphery, and it was only a matter of days before she became outwardly agitated with his presence. 

“What will it take for you to leave me alone?” she demanded of him one morning as he stood over her shoulder while she read under her favorite tree. “I’ve tried reasoning with you and ordering you. Surely you’re aware by now that I adamantly do not want you here. So tell me, what will it take?” 

Link looked down at her with those blank eyes, his brows drawn only the slightest degree and his mouth a thin line. Silence emanated from him like frost. 

Zelda rolled her eyes and huffed like a horse that had been spurred one too many times. “Your presence is not only unwanted but entirely unnecessary. Your job is to protect me but what danger do you imagine will befall me while I sit here and read in the inner courtyard? Are you going to swing that sword at the errant honeybee buzzing by my head?”

He glanced sideways and shifted so that he was facing away from her as he leaned back on the tree. Somehow his wordlessness infuriated Zelda even more; she imagined that she would be able to handle an overbearing knight that retorted her remarks better since the little power she wielded lay mostly in the realm of wit, but one that barely acknowledged her words left her feeling inexplicably belittled. Instead of a cunning, silver-tongued scholar she felt like a vindictive child. 

“I know you’re not dumb,” Zelda muttered into the pages before her. “I’ve seen you speak to my father. Whatever bitter reason you have for brushing me off will earn you no favors and will only make your unwelcome job harder.”

He sighed through his nose but said nothing.

\--

The long braid tied in front of Impa’s forehead swung back and forth like wind chimes as she knelt on the floor with her sister and the princess, sipping a cup of wildberry tea while they tinkered with a recently-excavated slab of ancient stone. Purah had a habit of tilting her glasses up to her forehead when she was thinking hard, only to put them back down again moments later when she remembered she needed them to see. At this moment her glasses were going up and down her face like the lever to a reluctant water pump. 

Zelda pinched her chin and rotated the slab ninety degrees. “Do you think it could be activated by electricity?”

Purah shook her head. “This technology is too ancient to be powered by electricity. The essence of lightning was harnessed only within the last few decades, and even now our technology is still too unrefined to be incorporated into a device like this.” 

The princess hummed in an almost pouty tone and set the slab down. “Well, we have to keep thinking. I’m sure this is the key to opening the shrines across Hyrule, and we can’t do anything with it in this inert state.”

Impa set down her teacup. “Perhaps it will only respond to a certain holder,” she said. 

Purah blinked at her like she forgot she was in the room. “Now is not the time for your cryptic prophesying, Impa. We don’t have time to waste on a hero-quest.” 

“As long as you’re fielding ideas, you at least have to consider the possibility.”

“I’ll tuck that idea away, right behind all the other _practical_ solutions we haven’t tried yet.” 

Zelda stared at the slate in front of her, pulling absentmindedly at a strand of her hair. “No, that might be. What if it is forever beyond our grasp in spite of any earnest effort to access it, simply because it requires something that none of us could give?”

The sisters’ bickering died at Zelda’s sudden musing and they exchanged a glance with each other. Impa reached out and touched her hand. “Princess, your power will be freed when the moment is right. It lies dormant within you even now, waiting for the time of most need,” she said in a low voice. 

Impa always seemed to know when Zelda was thinking of her sealed power. She reassured her frequently that some component of its activation will respond only to certain circumstances, that nothing Zelda would ever consciously do could release it no matter how committed she was to prayer. She wanted Zelda to believe that she was doing everything right, and that the power’s unresponsiveness was not due to any lack of devotion on her part. But something within the princess reared up and fought this notion, adamantly rejecting the idea that anything was out of reach as long as her willpower strove for it. If the goddess denied her prayers, then she had to be doing something wrong. She knew she could fix herself, and all she had to do was put in the time. 

She withdrew her hand from Impa’s touch. “Activating this slate is of utmost importance. We’ve got to try everything we can.”

\--

 _I am unsure how to put today’s events into words. Words so often evade me lately, and now more than ever._ Zelda paused, her quill hovering briefly over the period at the end of the sentence. _He saved me,_ she wrote.

She had been on a visit to the desert to supervise the progress on Vah Naboris and Urbosa’s pilot training. She, Link, and their Gerudo guide had stopped for water at the desert oasis, and Zelda had wandered off past one of the dunes in hopes of getting a better look at the region. She hardly ever made the journey out to Gerudo, partly because of its great distance from the castle and partly because safely traversing the inhospitable sands required both planning and a capable entourage. While she was there she wanted to get to know this part of her kingdom as much as she could. 

She had been squinting in the distance at a structure that appeared to be shaped like a shrine when she sensed that she was being followed. She whipped around to order Link back to the oasis but was perplexed to see only undisturbed, empty sand. 

Her heart stopped when she turned back and saw a sickle-wielding Yiga clan member, their one-eyed mask giving them the impression of a faceless demon. She shrieked and started running back toward the oasis but her feet sunk deep into the loose sand, which slowed her steps until it became a great effort to move. More Yiga clan members seemed to materialize out of the wavering heat, undeterred by the terrain like Zelda was, enclosing on her from all sides. 

She fell onto the sand, unable to run anymore. Even if she had the energy to she wouldn’t be able to escape through their menacing circle. As they loomed over her, brandishing their ready weapons, she raised a hand over her face in a weak effort to protect herself from the coming blow. 

But it never came. She opened her eyes just in time to see the Master Sword wrest a sickle from one of their red hands, the curved blade landing many paces beyond. One of the clan members crumpled to their knees behind Zelda shortly before vanishing in a flurry of ribbons. Link stood in front of her, his sword hand stretched out between her and the remaining attackers. His eyes were unreadable, focused intently with lowered brows, the look of a wolf who had cornered the hunter.

It was the first time Link had drawn his sword in her defense, and he had done it like a reflex. He was outnumbered and unprepared, and still he threw himself in front of her in spite of the obvious danger. 

Would Zelda have done the same, for someone who had treated her with nothing but disdain since their meeting? Would she have responded to someone’s constant petulant lashing out with unselfish devotion? 

\--

“Link...would you sit down with me a moment?” 

The knight hesitated, perhaps surprised by the sudden and uncharacteristic invitation, but he folded his legs in the grass next to Zelda, who had put aside her research notes. She took a deep breath and looked up at his face. “I wanted to thank you for what you did for me the other day in the desert. You saved my life, Link. I won’t ever forget that.”

Link nodded, but his expression stayed even. He was not expecting thanks and seemed somewhat suspicious. 

Zelda chewed her lip and resisted the urge to look away. “And...I also wanted to apologize to you. I’ve been cold to you since we met and you’ve done nothing to deserve it. I was annoyed by my father assigning me a personal knight because I didn’t think I needed protecting, but that isn’t your fault and I was wrong about that besides. I realized...I haven’t been treating you as a person, but as an extension of my father’s iron will over me. That wasn’t fair to you, and I’m sorry.”

Link bowed his head in acceptance and smiled gently, like he had just forgiven months of mistreatment as though she had offhandedly apologized for stepping on his foot. 

Zelda continued. “It was easy for me to paint you however I wanted since you rarely say anything to contradict me. I never know what you’re thinking so I over-imagined your thoughts. I told myself that you felt only contempt for a princess who can’t access the power everyone expects of her, especially when you yourself have already proven worthy of wielding the Master Sword. I was sure you hated me, but I guess I never really asked you for your opinion before forming my own conclusions. Perhaps that’s just what I told myself so I could feel less guilty about being so awful to you.”

“I don’t hate you, milady,” Link said, and his voice sounded like it had been sleeping and was just suddenly roused by daybreak. His words made Zelda’s heart race, not only because of what they said but because they were the first he’d ever spoken directly to her. It was like unexpectedly seeing a rare creature in the wild that she had only ever read about in books. “I don’t want you to think that I do,” he added.

 _Just another of the many ways you are better than me,_ Zelda thought, but she pushed it out of her head. “Then why haven’t you ever spoken to me before now?” she asked. 

Link looked down at his hands, and for a moment Zelda was afraid he wouldn’t answer. But at length he said, “Because...the sword on my back speaks for me.”

“What do you mean?” Zelda asked. She knew that legend spoke of a voice inside the sword but she doubted that the saying was that literal. 

“People see it before they see me. They already know who they think I am because of it. And I feel that that no matter what I say, I will fail to meet their expectations. So I just...say nothing.” He sighed and met her eyes. “I’m sorry that this has caused you grief, princess.” 

“I see…” Zelda pursed her lips and thoughtful silence settled between them. She understood his struggle with the weight of responsibility, but she would never have guessed that this was the reason for his muteness. She realized she had been eager to believe that he was simply living an easy life because he didn’t react to his hardships the way she would have. She was more inclined to proudly vocalize her thoughts in opposition of people’s heavy preconceptions of her rather than suppress them to fit the mold. 

She looked up at him and noticed, somehow for the first time, the blue ring glinting from one of his ears, the cross-shaped scar on his chin, the shallow crease between his eyebrows as he harbored something like shielded contrition behind his eyes. She looked at him and for once she didn’t see a knight, an impersonal shadow. 

“In any case,” the princess said as she breathed out. “It’s good to finally make your acquaintance, Link.” 

\--

The wind channeling through the Pillars of Levia combed through Kakariko Village, and the rustling of the long grass sounded almost akin to ocean waves falling down over sand when Zelda closed her eyes. She and Purah had walked up to the cliff overlooking the village, where the nearby shrine stood like an owl on its perch, to share some pumpkin soup for their midday meal. The two of them sat together on the cool, flat shrine entrance and tried not to talk about research during their break. 

“Have you started any new projects of your own since you began helping me with the ancient technology?” Zelda asked between bites of soup. 

Purah’s eyes lit up and she put down her spoon to gesture with her hands. “Are you kidding? Ever since we got the Shiekah Slate to respond I haven’t even been able to keep track of all my ideas! There are so many applications of its abilities...I imagine that the fantastic camera rune could be particularly useful if I could expand upon its potential!”

“It is quite wondrous,” Zelda agreed. “I can’t begin to fathom the technology that allows this slate to instantaneously copy an image of its surroundings without even having to draw it. There is so much we can do with it!” 

Purah nodded so emphatically her glasses bounced on her nose. “Exactly! I must say, Your Highness, it is both refreshing and exciting to have a princess who understands the value of research. His Majesty the King is a capable ruler to be sure, but I never felt like he particularly supported our interests.”

Zelda ate a few spoonfuls of stewed vegetables before replying. “That’s one way to describe his attitude,” she muttered as she lowered her bowl.

Purah tilted her head back and laughed. “How strange that to all of us he is our King, but to you he is a father like any other. I take it he is less than keen on your participation in our work?”

“He forbids it,” she replied sullenly. Only a few days ago the King had spelled out just how keen he was on Zelda’s research, finally putting his foot down and ordering her to stay away from it as though she were a child. At the time she hung her head obediently, but later that day Link listened to her rage for hours and still didn’t hear the end of her displeasure. 

“Oh,” Purah said, her tone sounding like a dropped dish. “Are you...should you be here, in that case?”

Zelda sighed. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t need his blessing to pursue this. I know that I can help protect Hyrule this way even if he doubts me. And besides, I encounter much more success here than praying at Goddess springs.” As she said this she looked down over at Lantern Lake in the center of the village, where Impa was kneeling before the Goddess statue. 

Purah hummed. “Ah, yes. My sister seems as confident in the advent of your power as though it were the coming dawn. But she is a priestess, not a scientist.”

“And what would you say is the difference?” 

“A priestess would wait all day for a pot of water to boil, simply because she believes it will happen eventually. A scientist adds more fuel to the fire.”

“So a scientist is more...efficient?” Zelda said, her brows drawn.

“A scientist never believes she is doing all she can. A scientist knows that the power and the responsibility to derive results lies with her, not with the Goddess or anyone else.” Purah turned her head and blinked at the princess through her gaudy frames. “You would rather be here than praying because here, you can never be at the end of your rope. Here the limit lies wherever you drop it.”

\--

Zelda’s laughter rang off the walls like a musical bell. “You did not!” she wheezed. “Is there anything you won’t eat?” 

Link grinned and shook his head as he leaned back against the cool stone wall. It was after dark in the princess’s study, and Zelda had asked him to distract her from her notes before she started to go mad. They sat together on the carpeted floor like kids, exchanging stories into the night. 

Zelda wiped her eyes, regaining her breath. “I don’t know if I’ve ever tried anything stranger than caviar,” she mused. “Almost all the food I eat is prepared by the royal chefs, and most of them would sooner die than put a platter of stewed lizards in front of me,” she paused to laugh again. “A royal palette is refined but not very adventurous!”

“I suppose the knights get more freedom in that sense,” Link said. 

This thought struck Zelda strangely, like a stray minor chord in a cheerful tune. She shifted forward so that she was leaning her elbows on her knees and said, “Link, who do you think is the freer person, you or me?” 

He hesitated at the quick change in tone. “It’s hard to say. Both of our positions sacrifice a fair amount of personal agency. You are the one who gives the orders, though.”

“But at least you chose to become a knight,” Zelda retorted. “I know you had a family legacy, but you could have been something else if you wanted.”

“I suppose,” Link said. “But I always wanted to be a knight. I still do.”

“You never regretted it?”

Link shook his head. 

“Even when I treated you like a pest back when you first started out?”

Link chuckled low. “Strangely, even back then I knew I was in the right place.”

A warm ache blanketed Zelda’s chest at these words. The right place for Link was at her side. Something about this notion felt like the subtle bubble-pop realization that one was in a dream and could do whatever they wanted. With the two of them caught between the peachy glow of the lantern and the cool wash of starlight, Zelda leaned her hand on Link’s shoulder and before she knew what she was doing she had found her way to his lips.

She lingered there without knowing why, and he received her kiss like a gift but didn’t dare touch her. When she pulled away, his eyes were open and searching. She could give him no answers.

\--

The blinding golden burst from Zelda’s outstretched hand dissipated into the night like a cooling star, darkening the eyes of dozens of possessed guardians, and as the sacred symbol faded from her skin she found herself thinking: I did this. 

The sound of Link collapsing behind her startled her. She knelt by his side and spoke desperate promises, and he held her gaze with such focus that it was like he was clutching a lifeline. But it wasn’t enough, and when he wilted in her arms she thought: I did this. 

\--

Removing the Master Sword from its owner’s limp grasp felt surreal; in every legend the hero retained it until he replaced it to its pedestal after its time of need had passed. As Zelda took the blade away from him she imagined that she was perhaps the first person in all of history to do such a thing. She felt not like a pioneer, but rather a trespasser. Holding the sword was like handling an injured wild animal. It would never have let her touch it if it didn’t need her help. 

Watching the Shiekah warriors take Link away, she tried not to remember the unsteadiness of the last breath he’d taken, how his chest felt against her ear with no heartbeat. Instead she busied her mind with the reassurance that they weren’t carting off a body to be buried, but rushing a wounded hero to be healed. It was still hard to stop the tears rolling down her face. 

When they were gone she looked toward the castle in the west, where Ganon’s shadowy flames raged and writhed around the spires. The light now burning within Zelda would be enough to hold it at bay. She would fight it alone for as long as she had to; she’d net Ganon like a boar to be speared upon Link’s return. She was ready to face it, but there was something she needed to do first.

Reaching the Korok Forest and seeing how bright and seemingly unaffected by Calamity Ganon it was breathed life into Zelda’s hope for Hyrule. She sunk the Master Sword into its pedestal and the subtle glow began to heal the damage done to it, and she thought of how the same restoration was happening to its master as well. It was like the sword was a fragment of Link’s spirit rather than simply a tool that belonged to him. Serenity bloomed inside the princess as she watched the blade’s luster and edge slowly return. 

The thought of healing made Zelda remember something Mipha had said only a day ago. She was going to tell Zelda what she thought of when she was healing in hopes that it would help the princess access her sealing power. She never got to hear what Mipha was going to say, but now, when she recalled the bursting flood of emotion going through her mind at the moment her power exploded like a match being struck in a room full of gas, she felt the answer resonate inside of her. Suddenly she was painfully aware that Link was not there at her side, because she desperately wanted him to know that all along the key to unlocking the power was the essential desire - the urgent _need_ \- to protect someone she loved. 

“Great Deku Tree, I ask of you, when he returns, can you please relay this message?” she said to the ancient protector looming over her. “Tell him I --”

“Now then,” the Tree stopped her. “Words intended for him would sound much better in the tones of your voice, don’t you think?”

These words were a silver wind clearing away the smoke of doubts and fears still lingering in Zelda’s heart. She clasped her hands and nodded resolutely. “Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot to say about Zelda's beautiful and tragic character in Breath of the Wild, and I didn't quite get it all out here but I came pretty close. I think there is a lot of nuance to her and I tried to portray that as best as I could here.
> 
> Also Zelink.


End file.
